


when everything leads to nothing

by unholyconfessions (orphan_account)



Series: remember the secrets we've told [4]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Developing Relationship, F/M, Friendship/Love, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Infidelity, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Masturbation, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 13:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2695079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/unholyconfessions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not supposed to happen this like this. It’s not supposed to happen at all, but the next few moments do happen, in slow motion, and he can’t fight it. </p><p>This time they crash into each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when everything leads to nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, I couldn't resist (and neither could they). The rating has gone up! This piece is a little bittersweet, but I'm quite fond of it.
> 
> This is set a couple weeks after [under the still-rising sun](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2670113).
> 
> Unbeta'd, so apologies in advance. Feedback is lovely as always. Enjoy!

Barry doesn’t see Eddie again until Eddie’s back at work, moving along the hallway with Iris under his arm. Barry is over at Joe’s desk, going over a double homicide with him, when he sees them approaching in the distance. 

His eyes meet Eddie’s and Eddie gives him a nod. He nods back, his eyes trailing over to Iris, who smiles and waves at him from afar. It burns a hole in Barry’s stomach. 

Joe, when he notices, walks over and meets them halfway, but Barry doesn’t move from his spot on Joe’s desk, choosing to watch as Joe gives Iris a hug and Eddie a pat on the shoulder and says, “Good to have you back, partner.”

Barry hears Iris tell Joe to keep an eye on Eddie. Joe promises her that he will and she smiles, leans over to give Eddie a kiss as she leaves and throws another wave Barry’s way. Barry’s mouth dries out and the light dims in Eddie’s eyes when their gazes meet again.

Barry can’t breathe, has to secure the strap of his bag on his shoulder and leave before Joe comes back to see the look on his face.

Eddie meets him at his lab shortly thereafter, sliding the door closed behind him and leaning against it, one arm behind his back. Barry looks up from the samples but doesn’t say a word, lets Eddie’s eyes roam over him instead.

“Allen,” Eddie’s voice cuts through the silence, but nothing else follows it.

Barry’s name hangs in the air between them, echoing in his ears until it’s the only thing he can hear. 

He opens his mouth in vain: nothing comes out except an unflattering sound in the back of his throat. Eddie’s gaze wanders the room and lands on Barry once more, makes Barry squirm in his seat and drop the sample back into the tube holder before he breaks it from holding it too tightly.

Eddie’s eyes follow his movement as he rises from his seat and takes two steps in Eddie’s direction. He slides his hands inside his pockets just to have something to do with them.

“How’re you feeling?”

Eddie nods, says, “Good, a little sore,” and walks in Barry’s direction, stops when there’s only an arm’s length between them.

Barry smiles, can’t help it, and nods back his response. The air seems lighter now as he takes a deep breath, and the knot in his stomach dissolves into a slow-burning flame. He looks down at his feet, waits for Eddie to mention something else, to mention what happened at the hospital, because they need to talk about it, and not over ice cream.

“I’m at a loss, Allen,” Eddie declares, runs a hand over his face with a sigh. “I love Iris, but I—”

Barry doesn’t let him finish that sentence, doesn’t need to, “I know.” He nods, gives Eddie a small smile. “Me too.”

Eddie nods back, seems glad that he doesn’t need to say it out loud. He rolls his good shoulder back and looks over the evidence Barry was analyzing. His eyes soften around the edges.

“Bring me up to speed?”

Barry smiles, figures why not, and grabs a chair so Eddie can sit beside him.

Their knees touch as they examine the evidence together, getting through files and samples from the crime scene, and Barry loses track of time.

***

It takes them an entire day to find out that the perpetrator has a cabin on the outskirts of town, halfway to Starling City.

It doesn’t seem to be a metahuman like Barry was expecting, but someone with a fairly extensive knowledge of chemistry and biology, much like the people at S.T.A.R. Labs. Joe instructs him to get them and Caitlin is the one who answers when Barry calls, says she’ll be right over, but not without adding that she’s only doing this for him, she’s not a field scientist.

She’s there in twenty minutes, carrying a forensic kit twice the size of Barry’s and walking on tiptoes so her heel doesn’t dig into the dirt. Barry and Eddie share a look at the sight and Caitlin makes a face when she catches up to them.

They walk her over to the cabin and the door creaks when Eddie opens it, latex-clad hand flat against the rotting wood. Caitlin steps past him and into the shack and Barry follows her, Eddie behind them. She lays her kit open on the floor and takes out a pair of latex gloves, gives out a measured sigh.

Joe is discouraged when he enters the room to find that they haven’t gotten anything substantial in over two hours, anything that could lead them to this guy before he kills again. He vents his frustration with a quiet groan.

“The sun’s coming down soon,” he says as he walks to the room further down the hallway, “and we need to find something before that.”

Tires screech outside just as he finishes speaking. Barry exchanges a glance with Caitlin and she hesitates, looks at Eddie in alarm. He hasn’t told her yet, about Eddie knowing, but he doesn’t have time to explain before he whizzes outside to catch sight of a truck driving away.

He runs after it, catches up in a mere second and latches himself onto the passenger side door. The truck brakes and he’s thrown back, but maintains his grip and doesn’t fall over. The driver looks at him, a scar running across his face, and smiles. Barry barely has time to process the next five seconds before an explosion sends him flying back.

Barry rolls and lands face down on the dirt, his chest burning as he inhales the smoke and dust. Caitlin’s voice cries out his name in the distance and Barry begs for his body to react, but the world fades to black before it can.

***

Barry wakes up to Caitlin’s face above him.

She greets him with a warm smile and nothing else, and Barry glances around to find that he’s at S.T.A.R. Labs. His voice scrapes against his throat as he tries to speak, but no discernible sound comes out. 

“You suffered a sixty percent burn in your respiratory tract,” Caitlin explains with a gentle tap on his shoulder, gives him a sympathetic look. “It’ll be hard to speak for a couple of hours.”

Barry nods in response and raises his hand to see the skin peeling off in layers, bright red and glossy, all the way up to his elbow. He gives Caitlin a look and she raises her eyebrows at him, tells him it looked worse an hour ago.

The events come rushing back to him: an explosion, the heat, dirt getting into his eyes and mouth, Caitlin’s voice calling for him. 

Did anyone else get hurt?

Caitlin, as if reading his thoughts, smiles, assures him that, “Everyone’s okay.”

“Eddie?”

Barry is surprised by the sound of his own voice. Caitlin frowns and hesitates, glances at something in the distance. She nods.

“He’s fine. There was only one reported casualty,” she says, “and you.”

Sighing, Barry allows himself to relax against the mattress as Caitlin finishes up bandaging him. Her touch is delicate, even more so than usual, but it still stings.

She leads him outside after she’s done, and he finds Joe and Eddie standing behind Cisco as Cisco types away on his keyboard, their eyes fixed on the monitor.

“Hey, guys,” says Barry as he walks into the room, his voice hoarse but audible. Caitlin holds his one undamaged hand to help him keep his balance.

His smile isn’t reciprocated. 

Eddie looks like he’s seen a ghost and Joe looks like he might give Barry a can of whoop-ass at any moment.

“I’m okay. Look.” Barry holds up the hem of the S.T.A.R. Labs sweatshirt to reveal pristine skin underneath. “Not a hundred percent, but not bad, right?”

Joe releases a sigh and walks over to give him a calculated hug, arms barely touching him. Barry smiles when they pull away and Joe nods, sighs again as if he’s been holding his breath for a while. Barry’s eyes glance in Eddie’s direction and he doesn’t know what to expect, but when Eddie just nods at him and gives him a reserved smile, Barry can’t help but feel disappointed.

He glances down at his feet, and then at Cisco, asks with a forced smile, “So, case closed?”

“Dude, with my help, always,” Cisco says with a chuckle. He swirls in his chair until he’s facing Barry and smiles. “Good to have you back.”

Barry nods, glances at Eddie. “Good to be back.”

***

Caitlin doesn’t let Barry leave until she’s sure he can walk on his own.

Joe’s already gone home to Iris, which leaves Barry and Eddie facing each other outside S.T.A.R. Labs, arguing about whether Barry’s allowed to run home or not. Eddie’s adamant on driving him, but Barry doesn’t trust himself in an enclosed space with Eddie for a twenty-minute ride, not after today.

“Eddie,” Barry says and hopes it conveys everything he’s not willing to say.

Eddie opens his mouth to speak but a ring cuts through him before he can. He fishes his phone from a pocket and glances at Barry as he answers the call. Barry doesn’t need to hear her voice to know that it’s Iris. 

“Yes, we’re still on,” Eddie says into the phone, eyes cast down to the asphalt. “Alright. I left the key in the mailbox. I love you too.”

He stares at the screen after the call ends and a breath catches in Barry’s throat. Eddie glances up at him and opens the door to the car, says, “You were almost blown to pieces back there, Barry. _Please_ , let me.”

***

They don’t talk.

Barry slouches back in his seat and slips out as soon as Eddie pulls over at his place. No goodbyes, no glances, (especially) no kisses, no anything.

Barry calls in sick the next day.

***

Joe gives him a call in the afternoon, after Barry’s come home from a late lunch.

Barry assures him that it’s nothing, that his body is just healing slower because of the damage. It’s not a lie; there are still sensitive patches on his skin, red and warm under his touch, running up his arm and down his back, but it’s not the whole truth either. Joe, even though he doesn’t sound convinced when he hangs up, doesn’t dispute his reasoning.

Barry sighs, throws his phone at the couch and stares at it for a good two minutes before a knock on the door snaps him out of it. He opens it without bothering to look who it is, and almost chokes on his tongue when he sees Eddie there, boxes of ice cream stacked in his arms. He gives Barry an apologetic smile and Barry feels compelled to step aside and let him in. Eddie walks past him, brushing up against his side in the process, and places the boxes on the kitchen counter.

“I didn’t know which one you liked.”

Barry raises his eyebrows, says, “There’s no such thing as bad ice cream.”

Eddie chuckles, bright and loud, and shrugs his wet suit jacket—is it raining? Barry glances out the window to check—off, drapes it over a stool. Barry watches in stupor as Eddie loosens his tie, opens his vest and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, looks for something in Barry’s kitchen drawers.

“Do you have any spoons?”

Barry can’t answer, can’t move. He stands there, mouth open as his brain tries to come up with something, but he’s at a complete loss. Eddie shouldn’t be there. They shouldn’t be doing this, whatever _this_ is. 

“Allen.”

Barry swallows, nods his response, and points at a drawer. He has to take a seat once Eddie’s found the spoons and proceeds to open the boxes one by one. Eddie offers him one and raises an eyebrow, a smile set on his lips as he tells Barry, “You do the honors.”

Barry takes the spoon and scoops out some mint chocolate chip, fidgeting under Eddie’s scrutiny. He picks up his gaze to find Eddie looking at him expectantly and nods, says with a mouth full of ice cream, “It’s good.”

He doesn’t miss the quick flick of Eddie’s eyes to his mouth when his tongue comes out to fetch a chocolate chip from his bottom lip, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, Barry takes another scoop out, elbows propped up on the counter.

“Eddie,” he says, trying to keep his tone conversational, “what are you doing here?”

He doesn’t look at Eddie when Eddie answers, “You called in sick. I thought we could…” Eddies trails off, waving at the ice cream, and shrugs.

Barry wipes his hand on his jeans when Eddie leaves the sentence without a proper closure. He knows that Eddie, much like Iris, acts on his instincts more than anything, and he admires that, but what if Eddie’s instincts are wrong? 

“Hey,” Eddie says, pulling Barry’s attention back to him. “I can leave if you want.”

Barry’s tongue seems entirely too big for his mouth, but he replies nonetheless, “No. No. I just.” 

His brain stutters and comes to a halt. Barry stabs his spoon into the ice cream and stares at it, hopes it’ll give him some kind of enlightenment that his brain refuses to. 

Every touch, every kiss he and Eddie have shared has been behind Iris’ back—the girl he’s been telling himself he loves since he knew what loves was, the girl he meets in rooftops, behind a mask, and makes empty promises to, the girl he dreams about at night and pines over during the day—and Barry can’t do this dance forever.

He can’t kiss Eddie hoping to taste Iris, not anymore. 

“I love her,” Barry says, looks up at Eddie across the kitchen island, smiles. “I’ve always loved her, and I know you do too. I don’t think we can keep doing this.” Barry sighs, letting his shoulders fall. “I don’t want you to leave.”

Eddie nods, smiles even though his eyes betray him, and eats a spoonful of what looks and smells like strawberry cheesecake ice cream. Barry steals a scoop for himself.

“You should tell her.” Barry chokes around his spoon. Eddie amends, “Tell her who you are.”

Barry shakes his head, coughs. “I can’t.”

Eddie’s voice is almost too low for Barry to hear when he speaks, “She deserves to know.” He glances up, catches Barry’s eyes for a moment before looking away. “You can’t hide forever.”

“Eddie…”

“Hey, Allen. It’s okay,” Eddie says, and his smile is genuine this time. “I get it. You save people as a hobby and walk around in a superhero costume, what’s not to love?”

Barry isn’t sure what part of that sentence he’s supposed to focus on, but his brain loops that last part until the only thing he _can_ focus on is his own heart pounding in his ears. Eddie chuckles at him and he averts his eyes, fills his mouth with more ice cream than is healthy.

“Come here.”

Barry’s head shoots up. Eddie seems amused. Through a mouthful, Barry asks, “What?”

“I said, come here,” Eddie repeats. He gestures at his mouth and then at Barry’s. “You have something over there.”

Barry knows what happens next. He’s binge-watched enough romantic comedies to know the conclusion to this scene, but that doesn’t stop his feet from dragging themselves to where Eddie is, stopping a few inches away so Eddie can reach out and wipe at the corner of Barry’s mouth. Barry smiles, leaving his eyes on the floor as he wipes at the same spot Eddie did and takes a step back. Eddie’s fingers close around his wrist before he can take another.

They stay motionless until the silence between them stretches thin, thin enough that Barry is afraid the slightest breath will break it. He glances down at Eddie’s hand around his wrist, watches as the grip loosens and Eddie’s hand falls into his, fingers touching and intertwining, tugging him close.

It’s not supposed to happen this like this. It’s not supposed to happen at all, but the next few moments do happen, in slow motion, and he can’t fight it. 

This time they crash into each other.

“Ice cream’s gonna melt,” Eddie mutters against his mouth as Barry shoves at Eddie’s clothes, vest first and shirt later, pressing the small of Eddie’s back to the kitchen sink.

Barry shakes his head, gives Eddie’s shirt a hard tug when it catches around Eddie’s wrists, and says, “I don’t care.”

Eddie laughs but doesn’t break the kiss. His undershirt soon follows everything else on the floor, pooled around their feet, and Eddie breathes out another laugh into Barry’s mouth when Barry tries to remove his t-shirt from the equation and fails. Barry smiles, lips curving between Eddie’s and teeth nipping at them before he pulls away to slide his t-shirt off and toss it aside.

Barry’s fingers find Eddie’s belt and he uses his speed to make quick work of it, but stops before he crosses that boundary. He wants to hold onto this moment a while longer, where guilt hasn’t consumed him yet, because he knows it will. He knows he won’t be able to look at Iris again and it destroys him, but his body needs something, needs anything, needs Eddie. 

He pushes his palm against Eddie’s chest, feels the thump of Eddie’s heart on his fingers and it’s fast, faster than his, if that’s even possible. Barry loses himself in it, allows his eyes to flutter shut as his breathing slows.

Eddie catches his bottom lip between his teeth, tongue running over it, and Barry gives out an obscene whimper, arches into Eddie’s chest. Eddie’s fingers start working on Barry’s jeans; Barry lets him even though he can do it ten times faster, opens his eyes so he can watch, anticipation rushing through the pit of his stomach.

It’s simple, almost too simple, too feel this good, to angle his head to the side let Eddie’s teeth sink into his neck and jaw line. They work his jeans open, together, in the midst of bites and kisses and fingers tugging at buttons. He can’t breathe, not when Eddie’s hand wraps around him and his hips buck up in response, and especially not when Eddie’s mouth finds his again.

Eddie’s wrist moves in slow strokes, and Barry has to close his hands around Eddie’s arms to keep his balance. They move in synchronicity, mirroring each other’s movements until Barry comes with Eddie’s name falling from his lips. Eddie groans, kisses the words away from Barry’s mouth, and Barry presses against him.

“Allen,” Eddie says, and he sounds rough. “You don’t need to.”

Barry shakes his head, places a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to Eddie’s jaw and whispers against it, “I want to.”

He hasn’t done this before, doesn’t plan on doing it again, but if Eddie’s moans are anything to go by, he isn’t half bad at it. 

He does to Eddie what he does to himself, taking in Eddie’s cues and adapting accordingly. Eddie likes it slow, Barry learns. He smiles at the irony, mouth pressed to Eddie’s shoulder as Eddie’s moans increase in volume and pace. 

Eddie comes much like Barry did, with Barry’s name spilling out his mouth, fingers curling around the sink behind as his body quivers against Barry. His forehead falls to Barry’s shoulder, sweat clinging to Barry’s skin, and Barry breathes against his neck until he’s consumed by the scent.

The air is tainted with static as they breathe in each other. Barry can’t move, afraid of reality crashing over them if he so much as thinks about it. It does, eventually, when Eddie pushes back and away from Barry, and it crashes hard and fast and Barry can see the guilt in Eddie’s eyes, wonders if it’s mirrored in his own. 

He has to take a step back, distance himself, a knot lodged in his throat as he picks up his shirt from the kitchen floor and wipes his chest and hand with it, watches as Eddie does the same. 

The rain has hit a steady pace, outside, and it swamps the room when none of them says a word. Barry is glad for it, glad he doesn’t have to fill the silence with meaningless conversation or apologies or confessions of love, because he knows he can’t do any of those things.

Barry’s breath falters, bile rising in his throat as Eddie throws his clothes back on. Eddie leaves without a word, without a glance in Barry’s direction, door slamming loud behind him, and Barry doesn’t— _can’t_ —blame anyone but himself.

There’s no excuse for what he’s done.

The water—when he locks himself in the shower, needing to wash every trace of Eddie off him—scalds his already-bruised skin, makes it prickle and burn until Barry’s eyes sting with pain. He doesn’t bother drying off as he steps out, droplets running down his back and leaving a trail behind him as he tumbles onto his bed.

It takes him a long time, but he puts himself to sleep.

_end_


End file.
